


Heart Tamer

by grey853



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-01
Updated: 2013-07-01
Packaged: 2017-12-16 19:13:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/865586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grey853/pseuds/grey853
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As Walter Skinner cares for an injured Mulder, he learns how to deal with a skittish heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heart Tamer

Heart Tamer  
by Grey  
[Grey853@aol.com](mailto:Grey853@aol.com)  
NC-17 for explicit m/m sex  
Category M/Sk  
Slash Archive: Archive X, MulderTorture, others okay as long as my name remains 

Disclaimer: CC owns the rights, but not the right slant of imagination. 

Summary: As Walter Skinner cares for an injured Mulder, he learns how to deal with a skittish heart. 

* * *

**Heart Tamer**  
by Grey  
[Grey853@aol.com](mailto:Grey853@aol.com?subject=Heart%20Tamer)

* * *

"I'm looking for Special Agent Fox Mulder. I got a phone call saying he was here." 

The nurse standing behind the ER desk glanced up from a file and asked, "And you are?" 

Taking a deep breath, his patience only barely in check, he spoke gruffly as he held up his ID. "FBI Assistant Director Walter Skinner. Now, could you please tell me the condition of my agent?" 

Shaking her head and smiling, the woman all but laughed. "I'll be damned. The guy wasn't lying after all." She glanced up, working hard to contain her surprise, but lost her smile when she saw the deadly glare. Suddenly more professional, she answered the question. "He's in exam room four. You'll have to wait until Dr. Martin releases him, but the sooner you get him out of here, the sooner I can remove my finger from the speed dial on security. Apparently your Mr. Mulder doesn't like hospitals even when he needs one. Excuse me for saying so, but he's been a real handful." 

"Tell me about it." The pulsing knot in his stomach relaxed only slightly as he followed her down the hall. He figured if Mulder could cause that much commotion, he must not be too badly hurt. 

Sirens in the distance, intercom calls, buzzes, and voices, a child crying while grownups argued, all the sounds of emergency called for his attention, but he pushed them away. Blocking out the swarm of faces, the young and old portraits of both panic and relief, he focused instead on achieving his main objective, to find Mulder alive and not too badly damaged this time. The unconscious habit of a silent prayer kicked in, the calling to a higher force in the private chapel of his mind sent up a plea for salvation, an urgent appeal to rescue Mulder from his future end one more time. 

As he got to the doorway, the nurse's words barged into his thoughts. "Don't let him get up until the doctor comes back." 

As she left, Walter focused on the man sitting uneasily on the edge of the exam table, his long bare legs dangling, his arm wrapped tightly around his middle. The hospital gown and the lighting only served to darken the bruises, one on the left cheek bone and others all along his arms. A bandage on his forehead matched one across the top of his right hand, evidence of at least a few good punches. 

Hazel eyes met his and then quickly looked away. As Mulder sat up straighter, the catch in his breath held him still while he hissed. "Damn." 

"Are you all right?" 

"I'll be fine. Where's Scully? That's the number I gave them." 

"She and her mom are out of town. When they couldn't reach her, they transferred the emergency call to me." 

"Yeah, well, I guess you're the backup then. Sorry." 

"We'll see how sorry you are after I find out what the hell happened." 

"I don't want to talk about that yet, sir. I mean, not here anyway. Right now, I'm just waiting to check out as soon as somebody will give me back my damn clothes. I could've called a cab or something. You didn't have to come all the way down here." 

As he listened to Mulder speak, the noticeable slur concerned him. "What drugs did they give you?" 

He hesitated and the damaged mouth worked harder to form the stubborn words with only a bit more success. "Nothing. I'm just tired. I need to go home. Maybe you could get the doctor and then we can both get out of here. It's got to be the middle of the night." 

"It is, but at the moment I'm more worried about what's happened to one of my men." 

"Later, sir. Please." 

As he started to step off the table, Skinner put a hand on his shoulder, holding him still. "Don't even think about it. Just wait until the doctor gets here." The heat against his palm surged up his arm, the tingling contact disturbing and exciting at the same time. 

Before Mulder could resist, a young resident walked in and started talking, using the light to examine the patient's eyes. Stocky, blond, and efficient, his unexpectedly deep voice demanded attention. "So, how are we doing here, Mr. Mulder? Headache better? Your vision okay? Any signs of vomiting or dizziness?" 

"I'm fine." Just from the tone, Walter recognized the lie. He'd heard that same tenor too many times in his own office not to know it by heart. 

He jotted on his chart and noticed Walter for the first time. He nodded acknowledgment, but kept on addressing himself to Mulder. "Well, If you start to feel nauseous, you've got something to take along with the pain meds and antibiotics, but I think you're going to be okay. The x-rays came back fine. There's no concussion, but you did take quite a beating including several blows to the head. Just keep alert to any symptoms for the next few days just in case. If any of the things we've discussed occur, then come back in. The bruising on the torso is rather extensive, and you know you have to be careful of those lacerations for awhile. They were pretty deep, but I'm sure the nurse told you about keeping the stitches dry. They should heal pretty quickly if there's no infection and you don't try to overdo it." 

Just as he started to turn away, almost as an after thought, but in a precise and commanding tone, he added, "Oh, and Agent Mulder, don't drink, not even beer or wine, while you're on these medications. Do you understand me?" 

Mulder nodded as he took the prescriptions, his shoulders hunched, his voice unusually soft with his answer. Turning his attention to Walter, he asked, "You're his supervisor at the FBI, Assistant Director Skinner, right?" 

"He's under my direction, yes." 

"Just keep an eye on him and don't let him do anything stupid. I don't want a repeat of what happened when he first got here." 

"Which was?" 

"He tried to fight with everyone who touched him until he sobered up enough to know we weren't the enemy." Dark brown eyes squinted as he tried to listen to the rest of an all too familiar story. "I know he's a federal agent, sir, but you might want to consider some counseling. I didn't give him any pain meds, because of his alcohol level on arrival. He's better now, but he was extremely paranoid and aggressive, not to mention disoriented. I was as concerned for his mental condition as his physical injuries." 

"Well, shit, of course, I was aggressive. I'd just been mugged unconscious for christsakes. Hell, that's the only fucking way they could've gotten me here." Both men turned to stare at Mulder who now stood, half supporting himself against the wall. His voice shook, the anger trembling the words. "I don't need a shrink. I just need my fucking clothes back." 

"Settle down, Agent Mulder." His best assistant director's voice rocked the young man into silence. Turning to the doctor, Walter spoke evenly, his words starched. "I'll see that he follows your instructions if you'll write them down. Now, if he's okay to leave, we need his clothes and his release papers." 

"Certainly. Just have him checked out by his own physician before he returns to duty. I'd say he's going to need at least a week." 

"I'll take care of it." 

"Good. I'll send in the nurse with the papers. I'm afraid his clothes are a bit of a problem though." 

"What kind of a problem?" 

"Except for the jacket, they were pretty much goners in Trauma. Too much blood and too many sharp objects. He can use some surgical scrubs I'll send in if you want." 

"Thank you." Each word crisp, Walter waited until the man left before he turned back to Mulder. Before he spoke he took in the involuntary shudder as his agent leaned his whole back against the wall. The temper edging his words faded as he moved to guide him to a chair. "Sit down before you fall down. I swear, Mulder, I don't know what the hell I'm going to do with you." 

"Shoot me. That's what Scully usually does." The humor of the weighted words didn't quite win a full smile. 

"Jesus, Mulder. Be serious here. You said you were mugged. Did you file a police report?" 

"No, sir. They left before the ambulance got there. I tried to leave, too, but my body wouldn't cooperate too well at the time. Fucking traitor." 

"God, you make me crazy. Who were these people?" 

"Like I said, I don't want to talk about this now. I'm too tired to even think straight." 

Frowning at the fumbled words, Walter didn't have a chance to say anything else before a small dark-haired woman brought in Mulder's things. He took the bundle including shoes and black leather jacket from the nurse as Mulder signed the papers. The plastic around the jacket showed the blood stains and smears on the inside of the bag. 

When she left, he spoke quietly. "Where's your gun, Mulder?" 

"I didn't have it with me." 

"What?" 

"I was off duty." 

"You always take your gun. Hell, I'm surprised you of all people don't shower with the damn thing." 

"Look, I know I broke procedure." 

"Again." 

"Yes, I know, I'm sorry, but I can't deal with this now." 

"Listen, you can put this off, but you know that the longer we do that, the less likely we are to find whoever did this. Any ideas who they were?" 

Still avoiding making eye contact, Mulder reached for the lightweight cotton pants. "I know who they were, sir, but like I said, not here." Hesitating just a moment, he glanced up before turning away and clearing his throat. "Look, could you wait outside? I need to get dressed and I've had enough of showing my ass tonight if that's okay." 

Snorting, Walter walked to the door. "Like showing your ass is a new thing? You're not off the hook yet. I'm going to find out what happened. As soon as you're dressed, I'll drive you home." 

A grimace registered for a heartbeat and then wasn't there. "I can get a cab, sir." 

"Don't fucking push it, Mulder. Get dressed." As a quick flutter of flight-filled thoughts raced across those familiar features, he added, "And don't even think about taking the back way out." 

Eyes narrowed like a kid busted past curfew and Mulder shrugged. "I wouldn't do that." A weak smile curled his split lip. "Besides, right now I don't even think I could outrun Scully in those cute little pumps she wears sometimes." 

Walter flashed on the image of the diminutive redhead chasing down and tackling her troublesome partner. Just as suddenly he saw himself wrestling with Mulder, his lean body struggling and bucking up, groin to groin, as he straddled and held him firmly against the ground. Blinking several times, he shook his head before he spoke, working hard to avoid direct eye contact. "Just get dressed. I'll be right out here when you're ready." 

"Yes, sir. Thanks." 

"Don't thank me yet, Mulder. We're not finished." 

As he waited outside, he heard the muttered curses as Mulder worked to get himself together enough to face him. In the meantime, he rubbed his face hard to wipe away the embarrassment of lusting after a man he had no right to want. 

* * *

"Sir, this isn't my apartment." 

"Well, at least you're alert enough to notice. Look, I'll take you home tomorrow, but for right now I want you where I can keep an eye on you, at least until I'm sure you're okay." 

Shifting nervously in his seat as Walter parked the car, Mulder argued. "There's no need to do that, sir. I just need to get some sleep and I'll be fine." 

"You get these pain pills in you and you won't know where you are anyway, so it won't matter. Now, come on. You're not the only one tired around here. Thank god it's Friday." 

"Saturday." 

"At least it's not Monday." 

Reluctantly Mulder got out of the car and followed him up to the elevator. Walter noted the heavy shadow of beard made darker by the bruising. He bit his tongue to keep from commenting as they rode up to his floor in silence. Once inside his apartment, he gestured to the couch as he headed for the kitchen. "Sit down. I'll get you some water to take this stuff. Then you can sleep in the guest room. It's already made up." 

Mulder remained standing, his injured right hand at his mouth, the over-sized hospital garb sagging down under the jacket. "I can take care of myself, sir. Just give me the pills and you can go on to bed." 

Tilting his head, Walter snorted. "Yeah, so you can not take these and sneak out? I don't think so. I'm not Scully, Mulder. Try to ditch me and I'll use the handcuffs. Now, sit down." 

"You know, you really are a bossy son of a bitch." 

Stopping dead still, he turned and studied the man standing there, his bruised eyes staring back defiantly. "Yeah, well, no one said you weren't bright, Mulder. Stubborn, crazy, and a fucking pain in the ass, sure, but not stupid. Now, do what I told you and sit down. Looks like you've taken enough punches tonight. Don't add to the tally." 

Ignoring the mumbled, "Asshole," Walter got a beer for himself and a glass of water for Mulder. 

Returning, he found Mulder sitting uncomfortably on his sofa, his skinny knees spread and his head leaning all the way back against the wall. The stretch of neck called to him, invited his kiss, his tongue trail to the hollow, but he took a deep breath and sat down beside him. Measuring out the three pills, he handed them over with the drink. "Here. Take these." 

"No, sir." 

"Mulder, don't argue. The doctor wouldn't have prescribed them if you didn't need them, especially the antibiotic. You've got stitches in your head and hand. Anywhere else?" 

"In my side and across the stomach. My jacket protected the back. One of the guys who attacked me had a ring on. It sliced me up pretty good in a couple of places. Guess I should be glad he didn't aim for the face or I'd be a quilted head piece." 

Wincing, he nudged the shoulder gently. "Then all the more reason to take these." 

Mulder's sleepy eyes slitted open as he turned his head slightly, the back of the sofa a needed support. "I don't need the pain stuff, but I'll take the other." 

"You're going to hurt like hell in the morning, Mulder. There's no shame in taking something to help out." 

"Shame's a relative thing, Walter." 

He started at the use of his first name, but said nothing, the rare glimpse at the potential for candor a rush. "Mulder, at the hospital you said you knew who did this. Can you tell me now?" 

Taking a deep breath, the younger man sat up and leaned forward, head down, elbows on his knees. After a few moments, he took the pills from Skinner's hand and swallowed them down. He put the glass on the coffee table and then once again slumped back into the cushions, his arms wrapped tightly around his stomach. "I went to this club, an underground club. I met this guy there and after I left, he and a friend followed me out." 

"Why?" 

"He wanted me to stay and join a party, but I wasn't interested, at least not in the kind of thing he wanted." 

"Which was?" 

"I only do one on one. He wanted his buddy to join us." 

Fuck. "What are you telling me, Mulder? You're gay?" 

"Partly, yeah." 

"Partly? Shit." Walter stood up and paced in front of the couch, the turmoil boiling inside, the need to scream stretching at his throat muscles. When he stopped, he saw Mulder watching him, an amused expression appearing for the first time that night. 

"Nice to see I can still surprise you." 

"Fuck surprises, Mulder. Aren't mutants and aliens enough? 

"Don't know, sir. Never been fucked by an alien, at least, not that I remember or know of." 

"And mutants?" 

"I'm not a bigot, sir, but no." 

"Jesus, Mulder, I don't believe you." 

"Join the club. That's the slogan. They even have a T-shirt. Scully's got a truck full." 

"Shut up, Mulder." Sitting back down beside his now quiet agent, Walter tried to figure out how he'd missed the clues. So much for being an observant assistant director. He needed to think and having Mulder's hot thigh so close to his own, having the knowledge that the man beside him liked other men, well, that made thinking vaporize to nothing civil or clear. It changed the world entirely, made life more webbed and more dangerous than ever before. 

"Still thinking?" 

"I told you to shut up, Mulder. I mean it. This is a mess." 

"Why?" 

"Why? You tell your boss you're gay and were beaten up by some pissed off spurned partners and you ask why this is a mess? This makes that fiasco with John Roche look like a goddamn childish prank. Jesus, Mulder, what the hell were you thinking?" 

The distant tone of the words drifted, each one less distinct than the one before. "I was thinking that I was tired of being alone, that for once, just maybe I could meet somebody that would make the darkness stay back for just a little while longer." 

The words pounded to destroy his anger, but he held on. "But, damn it, Mulder. You're not stupid. You know the risks of such behavior. You could lose your job over something like this. More importantly, you could've been killed." 

"Well, I'm not dead yet, sir. Better men than Edgar have tried to kill me." 

"Shit. Edgar? Fucking Edgar. I hate hearing this, Mulder." 

"Listen, I'm not going to report it, so it's not going to be official. I'll take some sick time and nobody knows." 

Walter stared at Mulder, the pupils already darker from the long night and the first traces of drugs. He swallowed hard, measuring out the energy to keep speaking. "I'll know." 

"And is that the problem?" 

"Are you asking me if I care that you're gay?" 

"Bisexual, but I won't quibble if you won't. God, my tongue's getting fat. What was that stuff you gave me?" Mulder ran his hand across his swollen bottom lip, his long fingers lazy against his own mouth. 

"Percocet." 

"Shit." 

"What?" 

"That stuff always makes me crazy." 

"Like anybody could tell a difference." He noticed a whiter shade of paleness at the edges of Mulder's skin and touched his cheek lightly. The slightest flinch relaxed and Walter drank in the brush of sharp bristles against his fingertips, the new burn lessened by the coolness of the skin. 

"Seriously. It's makes me say stuff. Don't pay any attention to that man behind the curtain. Don't believe any shit he says. Why's it so cold in here?" Eyes closed, he rested there, his breathing more labored. He teased his chin against Walter's hand, his face nudging it to touch him. 

"What's he going to say, Mulder?" His palm lightly caressing the side of the younger man's face, he fought the urge to kiss him, to nibble at the perfect ear so near his lips. 

"That he's lost. Couldn't find the truth if it bit him on his sorry ass. Just wanders around fucking up. Sad really, but there you are." 

"Mulder, I think I should get you to bed." As he started to shift forward, resistance kept him still. "Come on, Mulder. Help me out here." 

"Sure, Walter. I'll go to bed with you. Love to." Uncoordinated arms wrapped around the older man's neck and brought him close as Mulder's lips kissed the side of his face before his tongue licked his chin. "Thought you'd never ask. You're so damn proper and careful, but I kind of like that." The lean body fired his cock as Mulder slumped, relaxed and heavy against him, his weight a blazing pressure. 

He gave up trying to move the limp form and instead settled back into the corner of the sofa, drinking in the heat, the delicious throbbing tugging at his spine. His own breathing suddenly working on a different speed, he shushed the drowsy man in his arms, stroking the silky brown hair, each strand a feather to his hand. "It's okay. You're tired. Just go to sleep now. We'll talk in the morning." 

"You don't want to fuck me?" The disappointment came with a full pout as Mulder pulled himself in closer, his body molding to Walter's broad frame, the creak of leather a sensual tickle and stroke at his crotch. 

"I didn't say that." 

Drugged petulance faded to a sappy grin as Mulder rested his head against Walter wide chest right over the heart, rubbing his forehead against the crisp white shirt. "I knew it. Even when you're pissed, you don't hate me." 

"Nothing gets past you, Mulder." 

"Nope." Taking a deep breath, he settled into an even pattern of breathing, his chest only slightly sluggish from the tight bandages. 

Walter shook his head, one arm supporting the back of his companion, the other gently petting the hair. The slightly sour smell of tequila mixed with antiseptic tickled his nose and the soft moment toughened. Hard choices waved from the distance as he pondered life with a partner like Mulder. There would be no one night fling, no hot sex just to fuck for the sheer pleasure he knew it would be. No, he settled into a long night of dark thoughts, heavy decisions for a man in love with a wild spirit, an untamed heart that called to him like hungry, stolen kisses in the rain. Mulder's moans brought him in closer as Walter nestled him there between his legs, safe at least for what remained of the night. 

* * *

For Walter Skinner sleeping became as much of a lost cause as keeping Mulder out of trouble. He eased himself left just a little to let the circulation return to the leg crushed beneath his young friend's restless form. Even in his drugged sleep, Mulder never lay completely still for long. As the soft moans and twitches suddenly grew louder and more frequent, Walter prepared himself for the waking, but the scream still shocked him. It cut through his bones like the machete through bamboo in Nam, its aftershock spiked and sharp. 

"Samantha!" The jerk forward brought Mulder straight up and ready to fight, his right hand clenched, his left around his waist holding his guts in. 

"It's all right, Mulder." He kept his voice neutral, the words soft but deliberate. 

"Shit." Gulping for air, he gripped the outstretched arm, his fingers digging into Walter's muscle. 

"Calm down. It's just a dream." 

"God." Swallowing hard, choking on his own bile, he moaned. "Where's the bathroom?" 

"There's one right down the hall. Let me help you." 

"Don't touch me." 

Pushing him away, he launched himself awkwardly off the couch. He steadied the staggering with a shaky hand as he made it just in time to fall to his knees and retch into the bowl. The painful spasms hurt his own stomach as Walter stepped around and wet a cloth. Kneeling beside him, he waited until the vomiting stopped. "Here. This should help." He flushed the toilet, the sour stench almost too painful in such a small space. 

Without speaking, Mulder pressed the wet compress to his mouth and then settled back on his own haunches. Letting his head fall forward, he stayed bowed a few more moments before he whispered. "God, this floor is low. I don't think I can get up." 

"I can lift you if you'll get your legs working." 

Mulder looked over, his face too pale, his left eye swollen and already mottled black and purple. "Let me use you for leverage and I think I can do it. Just don't move too fast." 

"Not planning to. Here. Lean on this side." Careful of the ribs, Walter let Mulder put most of his weight on him until he could support himself against the sink. 

"Thanks." Standing so close, the smell of the vomit between them, Mulder shook his head. "Damn, this is romantic." 

His smile sad, Walter rubbed his arm gently. "You okay?" 

"Not really, but you already know that. It's a little hard to keep lying when you're standing post-barf in a guy's bathroom." 

"True." 

Suddenly uneasy, Mulder glanced away. "Look, I need to go and I'd just as soon you not see the full extent of the damage yet." 

Walter blushed slightly, the shared intimacy of confession raw power against his skin. "No problem, but I'll wait outside just in case you need me. Plus, why don't you take off that leather jacket and the scrubs? It needs to be cleaned before you wear it again. It's getting blood all over the place." 

Mulder noticed the stains on Walter's once white shirt for the first time. "Shit. I'm sorry about that." 

"No problem. I've got some clean sweats around here. They might be a little big, but they'll be warmer and cleaner than those." 

"Sure, thanks." 

As he left Mulder for a few moments, he went upstairs to his bedroom, changed his shirt, and got the clothes. By the time he returned, he found Mulder leaning over the sink brushing his teeth with his finger. "I've got a spare toothbrush in the medicine cabinet." 

"Yeah? That's thoughtful. Most women don't like to use their fingers." 

"Don't be an asshole, Mulder. There's also a razor if you want to shave around those bruises. You can't take a shower yet, but if you want to wash off, there are plenty of towels. Maybe you'll sleep better if you feel cleaner." 

Mulder scrubbed his gums harder and then stopped while he rinsed off his hand. "It'll take more than soap and water for that, Walter." 

Stepping closer, the larger man put his hand on the sagging shoulders, ignoring the flinch, but recognizing it. "You have that dream about Samantha often?" 

"Often enough. Ever since Roche fucked me over, I've had the same one. I see Samantha in the dark, her little girl's body sinking into the ground while I keep running and never getting any closer. She's buried alive somewhere and waiting. God, I hate this shit. Every fucking night, I fail over and over." Eyes squeezed shut around the tears, the words betrayed and mangled by a grief-thick tongue. 

"It's not your fault, Mulder. It's a nightmare." 

"One I've been living my whole fucking life." 

Reaching over, he tried to pull him nearer only to find himself shoved away. "Don't. Not now. I can't handle being touched right now. Okay? I'm sorry. Please, Walter, just leave me alone for a few minutes until I get myself together. It's not you, it's me." 

Nodding, understanding and knowing all too well the curse of pride, he spoke gently. "I'll fix you something warm to drink. You like hot chocolate?" 

"Hot chocolate?" The eyes opened and Mulder smiled into the mirror, hopeful. "With marshmallows?" 

"You like the little or the big ones?" 

"You've got both?" 

"Sure." 

"Damn. Okay then, the little ones for chocolate, big ones for other things." The naughtiest twinkle in still drugged-dazed eyes showed once again the lightning speed of Mulder's moods. 

Choosing to ignore the sexual tease, he smiled while he spoke smoothly. "Clean up and get dressed and it'll be ready as soon as you're finished. Call me if you need anything." 

His hand still trembling, Mulder touched his arm just as he turned. "Thanks, Walter. I appreciate this." 

"Not as much as you will, Mulder. Now, get dressed." 

"Bossy. Yeah. Never changes." 

"Never will. Get used to it." 

"I'm starting to." 

* * *

Staring out the balcony window, Walter stood sharing his time between observing winter skyline and Mulder. The slightest flutter of dark eyelashes alerted him to another waking. He stayed quiet until he saw the eyes finally focus on him. "How are you feeling?" 

"Like I got my ass kicked." 

"That's because you did." Walking over to sit down in the chair across from the sofa, he leaned back and waited. 

"What time is it?" 

"Around 7. You've slept off and on for hours now." 

"Damn." Struggling to sit up, he pushed back the blankets and swung his legs off the side to settle on the floor. "I need to call Scully. She's going to wonder where the hell I am." 

"I know. She called here when she couldn't get you at your apartment. 

"She called here? Shit." Rubbing his right hand across his mouth and then his forehead, still careful of the bandage, he closed his eyes. A deep frown wrinkled and distorted his face. "What did you tell her?" 

"I told her you were all right, but that you'd be out for a few days." 

"And what'd she say? Did you tell her I was staying here?" 

"You want some coffee?" 

Mulder met his eyes again and nodded. "Yeah, that'd be great. Black. Answers would be a nice side dish." 

"Yeah, they would, but that works both ways." As Mulder started to rise, he motioned him to stop. "Stay there. I'll get it. As for Scully, she knows you're safe. She doesn't need to know you're here, though knowing her, she'll figure it out. It's not a secret." 

"It should be. My being here could be a problem if someone wanted to make something out of it." 

"You were hurt and you're staying here until you're better. No problem." 

Mulder met his eyes again, this time with the exceptionally intense clarity that forced him to return the favor. "You and I both know that's bullshit, Walter." 

"Maybe, but I'm not going to worry about that just this minute. Relax. You want some food with this coffee? I've already eaten, but you haven't had anything for awhile." 

"Yeah, that would be good." 

"How about chicken soup?" 

"You're kidding, right?" 

"No, actually, I'm not. I like chicken soup. Just made some. You want any or not?" He stood there watching the wheels turn, the wariness return, the decisions running through Mulder's mind as he worked through what to say and to do now that the dullness lessened. 

"Chicken soup sounds good." Glancing up again, he added, his voice forming each word with precision. "Then I should leave. Staying here isn't safe for either of us, and I'm not talking about the external dangers to both of us." 

"I scare you that much?" 

"Hell, yeah. I don't remember exactly what I said last night, but I remember enough to know that I should be blushing." 

"But you're not and neither am I. Last night we both pretty much ran head first into that wall of truth between us. About damn time, too, if you ask me. I've decided I'm getting too fucking old to keep pretending." 

Mulder's crooked grin brought on a quick raise of his hand to his mouth, the wound open and bleeding again. Shit." 

"That's never going to heal." Tilting his head, he smiled, a wicked thought worth sharing slipping out before he could stop it. "Did I ever mention you've got the most fuckable mouth I've ever seen?" 

"God, Walter, I hope you've swept for bugs lately, or we're both going to really regret this conversation." 

"I swept, but that doesn't mean shit. Look, I'll get you the coffee and then heat up the soup. We've got some serious talking to do." 

The groan stopped him. "What?" 

"You sound like Scully." 

"Yeah, but I don't wear pumps." 

"Thank god." 

Seeing the twist of lines across the forehead, the bandage lifting up at the brow, he asked, "You can take another Percocet after you eat. I want you in your right mind while we discuss things." 

"Things?" 

"Yeah, things, like what we're going to do about your risk-taking behavior, what we want to do about us, what the hell we're going to tell Scully." 

"Tell Scully? No fucking way that's going to happen. Then I really will need a pain pill. No, I'll just take some aspirin if you've got it." 

"No aspirin, but I've got some ibuprofen. That should help the swelling and muscle pain, too." 

"Fine, whatever." Leaning his head back, Mulder used both hands to massage the side of his temples. 

Walter stepped to the kitchen, poured the coffee and then reached inside the cabinet to get the ibuprofen along with the antibiotics. Returning, he found his companion stretched out on his back, his head only slightly raised by the pillows, his legs up, arms around his chest. "How are you doing?" 

"I got a little dizzy. I'll be all right in a minute. Just tried to get up too fast." 

"Get up?" 

"I needed to go to the bathroom again, but it can wait." Slowly, using Walter's arm as an extra support he sat back up and took the coffee and pills, while the larger man settled beside him. "God, I feel like an invalid. I'm sorry." 

"Don't be sorry you need help, Mulder, but if that's a sorry for why you're in this mess, well, that I'll take." 

Mulder finished half the coffee before he spoke, his eyes still focused on his hands, his voice lower than usual. "I'm not sorry for you finding out how I feel about you, so maybe this whole thing's been worth it. I mean, what's a few more bruises? I don't think I could've told you without some excuse." Staying quiet, not quite sure what to say or even if Mulder needed to say more, he waited. "I've wanted to tell you for a long time now, but I wasn't sure how you'd react." 

"How did you expect me to react?" 

"I don't know. I kept getting mixed signals from you. I couldn't decide if you were really interested or if I really did suffer from delusions. 

"I didn't know I gave off any signals." He frowned as he rewound his memory of the times he thought he'd hidden his feelings so well. 

"That was the problem. I couldn't decide if I just imagined you looking at my crotch and drooling or if it was wishful thinking. Fantasy and reality are such close cousins sometimes." 

Walter shook his head, the grin finding its way to his face before he could stop it. "You really are a fucked up bastard." 

"Yeah, well, fucked up's a given and the bastard part's probably right, too." 

The serious tone jarred him, the words chilling the air between them. "What the hell are you talking about?" 

"Nothing. Forget I said it." He picked up the coffee and finished it off. Holding up the cup, the smiling mask he wore so often for show returned. "Another?" 

Walter wanted to rip off the cool disguise, to uncover all the truths at once, but contained himself. Skittish eyes watched him cautiously, eyes too wounded to tame easily. "Sure, but two's the limit until you've eaten." 

"Sure. Look, I've got to clean up some. Why don't you heat that soup you promised and then we'll talk after I call Scully. Did she leave a number?" 

"It's by the phone. She's with her mom though. I told her you were in safe hands for now." 

"And she bought that?" 

"Seemed to. Scully's not quite as paranoid as some people." 

"Not because I haven't tried my best, sir." 

"I'm sure." Walter stood up and helped Mulder to his feet, the unsteadiness of his leg muscles still evident, the contact electric. He cleared his throat as he tried to cool his mind. "You want some clean sweats?" 

"If you don't care, sure. That'd be nice. These are kind of damp for some reason." 

"You've got a touch of fever feels like." 

"I know. Not high though." He licked his lips as he took his hand from Walter's. "Uhm, look, I might need some other things, too. The cuts on my side and stomach feel sticky. I'm going to have to change the bandages. I can do it myself, but I'm going to need some tape, gauze, and scissors." 

"Let me put the soup on and I'll get those. Go get your shirt off and I'll change them for you." 

"I can do it." 

"Mulder, I'm not going to do anything except change your dressings. I need to see the damage anyway." 

"No you don't. I don't even want to see it." 

"Just go to the bathroom and get ready. I'll be there in a minute." 

Sighing heavily either from resignation or relief, Mulder turned and walked down the hallway. After putting the pan of chicken soup on low, Walter went upstairs for fresh sweats and the things he needed from his own medicine cabinet. 

He stared in the mirror at the man looking back and blinked several times. The picture remained the same, strong full face, bald head, glasses slightly distorting dark brown eyes, and the crooked nose he hated. Trying to imagine what the hell a man like Mulder could see, he shook his head. No use thinking too hard when he knew full well, he couldn't turn back, didn't want to turn back. More than anything he needed to touch the man downstairs, to take him and hold him, keep him safe both from the world and from himself. He craved the mix of neediness and strength, the elixir that trapped him in his own desire to both love and fuck him, to know him better than he knew his own heart. Dizziness swirled up as he closed his eyes for a second, the spin of doubt drilling away at his brain. After a few deep breaths, he stood straighter, opened his eyes and walked downstairs determined to master his own wild impulses before starting in on Mulder's. 

* * *

Wincing in sympathy, he taped the last of the bandages in place and stood up. Washing his hands again, he stayed quiet as Mulder carefully pulled on his shirt, the lifting of his arms a torture. 

"It's not as bad as it looks." 

"Right. Extensive bruising my ass. Looks like you got kicked by the whole Russian army." 

"Boots and all. Alex would like that." Mulder's grim version of a smile pissed him off. 

"Alex?" Just the subtle tone to the way he'd said the name knifed his gut. Fuck. "You mean Krycek? Damn it, Mulder, please don't tell me you've been with that son of a bitch." 

The automatic blush answered the question. "It was a mistake." 

"No shit." 

"It was before I knew who he was. He was my partner and right after they took Scully, well, I needed somebody. Hell, Walter, you're the one who had him drive me home after you took the case away." 

"So it's my fault you let that bastard fuck you? Don't even try it." He started to the door, the air too thin to support life. A stubborn hand landed on his chest. He growled deep in his throat, but Mulder didn't back away. "Move out of the way." 

"No, not yet, not until you know the truth. It was stupid. I knew it as soon as it happened. Why do you think I hate the bastard so much?" 

"I don't want to hear this, Mulder." He closed his eyes, willing with all his heart to rewind to ignorance, but the man kept talking, the words razor sharp and slicing. 

"It only happened once because I was so lonely, so desperate to know I could still breathe even with Scully gone, you know. Haven't you ever needed someone, just somebody to keep you alive long enough not to worry about eating your gun before morning?" 

Walter searched the sad eyes and found a wide soul open and staring back, the darkness there a gaping wound that only now slowly healed around the edges. Raising a hand to Mulder's cheek, he cupped the jaw and worked to keep the air flowing as the younger man turned his head enough to kiss the palm. "I'm sorry, Walter. I don't want to spoil this." 

"I know." Swallowing hard, Walter worked against the awful sting clouding his vision. "Look, let's go get you something to eat and then you can rest." 

"I thought we were going to talk." Mulder's eyes opened again, the questions like shadows wavering in a flicker of light. 

"We will, but I want you to rest more first. You're hurt worse than you know." 

"No, I'm not. I know exactly how bad it is. None of the stitches are broken though. That's good at least." He kissed Walter's hand one more time before he turned away to put the old clothes in the hamper. "You sure I should put these here? Maybe you should put them in a bag or something. There's blood, especially on the shirt." 

"I know, but it's not the first blood that's ever been in there." The quick change nudged suspicion. "Mulder, is there something else I should know? Are you having any other symptoms?" 

Slight hesitation introduced the answer. "There's blood in my urine. I don't think it's serious, but I guess if it doesn't stop by Monday, I should call the doctor." 

"Fuck Monday. I'm calling now. Shit. Why didn't you say something?" 

"I just did, so calm down. It's not a rupture or anything, just bruising. He'll say to take the antibiotic and come in if it doesn't go away. Why bother calling?" 

"Mulder, this is serious." 

"I know that, but not as bad as it could be. I've been worked over before. I know what to look for, what it feels like. Don't worry. I won't keep it from you if I think I need to go back to the hospital." 

"I don't like it." Walter shook his head, the conflict between overreaction and reason a source of unexplained ache. After a few moments, he whispered. "Promise you'll tell me." 

"I promise." 

"All right then, let's get you some food. I swear you're too thin. I could see your ribs." 

"That's because they shaved me. The hair usually covers those." 

"You're such a smartass." He grinned as he turned to leave. "Besides, you're not that hairy." 

"Not now, but just wait. Shave and it grows back darker and curlier." Running a brave hand over Walter's head, he smiled. "Want to try that?" 

"You want dark and curly, you're rubbing the wrong place, Mulder." 

Mulder laughed out loud and then grinned. "Now who's being the smartass?" 

"Just telling the truth. Now, take your hand off and I'll go fix the soup." Before he could pull away, Mulder's fingers traced along his jawline, his eyes watching for a reaction as he moved closer. "What are you doing?" 

"Saying thank you." Leaning in, soft lips pressed against his, the uneven trace of swelling and scab only adding fire to his desire. His own hand cupped the back of Mulder's head, drawing him closer, his tongue probing, searching for the eager partner. The weight between his legs thickened as he shifted forward, his body pushing Mulder's against the nearby wall, his right knee between slightly bent and parted thighs. The steam heat increased as he sucked harder, the uneven scrape of teeth and gum sizzling as he licked deep. Swallowing moans, he swelled with the need to drink in the salty taste, the coffee-flavor overlapping the unique flavor of Mulder. 

Running one hand along the chest, he stroked the hard nubs under the fleece. Just as he started to move his hand under the shirt, a rush of rust washed his tongue. Pulling back, the bloody lip bled freely with Mulder wiping the red away, his embarrassment mixed with arousal. Reaching over, he grabbed a tissue to clean both their mouths. "Sorry. I got carried away. Are you okay?" 

"Don't apologize. Please." Mulder suddenly paled and Walter helped him to sit down on the closed toilet seat. "I guess I'm not quite ready yet." 

"Mulder, this is my fault. You just kissed me and I took it too far. You're hurt." 

"As soon as I'm better, you can take it as far as you want. Hell, it was great. I'm just not up to much right now." 

"I know that. Come on. You need to get to bed." 

"No. The couch is fine." 

"Mulder, what is it with you and couches? Don't you ever sleep in a bed?" 

The lack of a quip or quick answer surprised him. He watched as Mulder got to his feet and headed for the living room. Speaking quietly, he followed behind him and sat down in the chair while the younger man settled back under the blankets. "Mulder? Seriously. Do you have some kind of aversion to sleeping in a bed?" 

"I'd just rather sleep here. Is that a problem?" 

"No, I guess not. It's just that I have a perfectly good bed in the guest room." 

"And one upstairs?" 

"Would you rather sleep there?" 

The eyes swirled with green and brown blinked a few times before he answered, his voice a sultry husk that stroked Walter's frustrated cock to attention. 

"Not yet, but when I do sleep in a bed, I want it to be that one. Are you going to have a problem with that?" 

"I think the little episode in the bathroom answers that question, don't you, Agent Mulder?" 

For the first time since his arrival, Mulder laughed. 

* * *

"You're awfully quiet all of a sudden." 

Mulder wiped his mouth and shrugged. "I'm just tired." Shadows haunted his eyes as he avoided looking up. 

"You starting to have second thoughts?" 

"No, not really." 

"Then what?" 

"It's Scully. When I talked to her, I felt bad about lying." He reached over for his glass of water and drank slowly. 

"What did you lie about?" 

"Us. Why I'm staying here. Sin of omission. She's Catholic you know. It kind of rubs off sometimes. I feel more guilty than I used to." 

"Now that's hard to imagine." Walter watched the avoidance, the growing tenseness in the arms. He leaned forward against the table and spoke evenly. "Listen, Mulder, this is strange for both of us. If you want to tell Scully, go ahead. If you want to wait, that's fine, too." 

"You don't understand." Mulder stood, using one arm on the table, one on the back of the chair to raise himself up. He walked to the counter, crossed his arms around his middle and finally looked over at Walter. "She's not going to approve." 

"I can understand that. If I were in her position, I'd be upset and fearful, too. I mean, we're breaking a hell of a lot of rules here. I'm your boss and we're both men. She's bound to worry about you getting hurt." 

"It's not just that." 

Puzzled, he drank a few more sips of beer before asking. "What is it I need to know?" 

"She doesn't trust you." 

He stopped moving, the psychic sucker punch palpable, the underlying message pure hurt. Wetting his too dry lips, he pushed out the dusty words before they dried to concrete in his throat. "Do you trust me?" 

"As much as I can trust anybody." 

"As much as you trust Scully?" 

"Yes." No hesitation tripped the word. 

"Well, I thank you for that much at least." 

Mulder's voice strained through his speech, each word harder to work around his fatigue. "It's not just you. It's anybody in authority now. I guess she's got me to thank for that, but the truth is, she's different now. Ever since she came back, she's really only trusted me and her mom, and I'm iffy sometimes." 

"Iffy a lot of times." 

He drank the rest of his beer and got another, taking his time to process his reaction. Mulder remained quiet and unmoving, his eyes watchful and wary. Instead of sitting back down, Walter cleared the table and cleaned up the dishes and food. Neither man spoke until he finished. 

"You pissed?" 

"Not exactly. Surprised. I thought Scully liked me, or barring that, trusted that I was on your side." 

"My side is the key phrase. The mixed signals got to her first." 

Shocked, Walter turned and stared, his mouth partly open. "What?" 

"She's the one who mentioned it to me a couple of weeks ago. Of course, I'd noticed long before that, but she asked me if there was something between us." 

"Shit." Bracing his upper weight against the counter, he turned to Mulder. "Are you saying she knows you like men?" 

"Yes, but she doesn't say much about it. In fact, she's pretty good at accepting it as long as I'm careful." 

"Guess she doesn't know about your little escapade with Edgar then." 

"Don't joke. She's going to kick my ass when she finds out about that." 

"Like any good partner should." Rubbing his chin, Walter turned around and leaned back, a mirror to Mulder's pose. "So, what did she say when you said nothing was going on?" 

"Are you sure you want to hear this?" 

"You started it. Finish it." His gritted teeth clenched his jaw, the need to know clashing with his desire to keep peace of mind. 

"She thinks that we're a bad match. Of course, try not to take that too personally. Scully pretty much thinks I'm too screwed up to be with anybody right now. It's not just you." He reached over, his fingers gently walking up his arm. "I don't want to tell her about this unless I have to, so I have to know you're going to keep quiet, too." 

Shaking his head, the slight touch of a headache working its way up through his knotted neck, Walter spoke with a conviction that surprised him. "I'm not going to do that, Mulder, not with Scully. Sure, we're going to have to be careful, but she's smart and no fool. It hurts that she doesn't trust me, but I can't help that. We're going to need her support and her silence." 

"You're sure?" 

"Absolutely." 

Mulder dropped his hand from Walter's arm, turned and walked back into the living room. Settling down on the couch, he tried to get comfortable, the involuntary grunts marking each shift as Walter stood in the doorway. 

"Mulder, you can't hide from this." 

"I'm not hiding. In fact, I was thinking that I should probably go home now that I'm feeling better." 

"Now you're running." 

"Fuck you. I'm not running. I'm just being sensible for a change. We really haven't thought this through. I mean, last night and today, it was great, but now, it's like this is really happening." 

"If last night and today meet your definition of great, you need a new dictionary, Mulder." Walter sat at the end of the couch, his body not touching, but close. "Look, you're scared. I understand that. I am, too. If you want to go home to rethink, I won't stop you, but I'd rather you stay. I want us to figure this thing out together." 

"I do, too, but I don't want to put you in danger." 

"Put me in danger? What the hell are you talking about?" 

His voice lowered, still soft, but more forceful, Mulder formed his words deliberately. "People I care about tend to get hurt. You've already been shot because of me." 

"That's bullshit. I was shot because of the fuckers we're up against, because I did something they wanted me to drop." 

"I know. You were looking into Melissa's death. That was supposed to be Scully." 

"I know that, too, but you're being greedy on the blame here, Mulder. You and Scully do your jobs and I help you do that. When one of us gets hurt because of it, it's not your fault. It's the bastards that we're fighting, not you." 

Walter edged closer, recognizing the brief flicker of doubt, the falling defenses. He touched Mulder's leg, the thick material of the sweat pants soft over the slender, but well-muscled thigh. "Besides, we can fight a hell of a lot better if we're not distracted." 

Mulder's voice drifted to velvet on gentle air. "You get distracted, too?" 

"Hell, yeah. I'm distracted like crazy right now." 

"Me, too." 

"Yeah?" 

"Very much so." He spread his legs slightly, Walter's hand still gently massaging circles and lines up to his hip. "You move that hand any closer to my cock and I'm going to be too distracted to breathe." 

"I take it you don't want to leave then?" He stopped moving his hand, the smile of victory curling self-satisfied lips. 

"God, Walter, you're a damn cock tease." 

"For now anyway." Avoiding the obvious bulge in the cotton, Walter scooted closer, his hand now pushing back Mulder's hair. "You don't need that now. When you're well, I'll do more than teasing. We both will, but I need you healthy. Now lie back and rest. We'll talk in the morning." 

Mulder raised his arm up over his eyes, biting his lower lip as he spoke in a whisper, his voice slightly choked. "You think I could move upstairs tonight?" 

"Only if you promise to behave. No frisky hands." 

"God, you're no fun." 

"Just be patient. Pretty soon, Skinner and fun will be synonymous in that twisted mind of yours." 

"I thought that was Skinner and surly." 

"Shut up, Mulder, and get up the stairs. Scully's not the only one who can kick your ass and enjoy it." 

"You expect me to walk in this condition?" 

"Well, it's either that or walk with a foot up your ass. You choose." 

"Damn. Hard choices already." 

"God, you're a smartass." 

"I'm not the one making promises, Walter." 

He smiled as Mulder went upstairs, his sexy backside a visual feast. "No, but you will be." 

* * *

Looking up from the Anderson case file, Walter saw the greenish eyes observing him closely. "Feeling better?" 

"Some. I love watching you read. You focus completely on what you're doing, so contained." 

"You're really easy to entertain, Mulder." 

"Yeah, well, I know what I like when I see it." The husky tone flavored the words with a heated, rich quality, an invitation to move closer. He resisted the urge to strip and crawl under the covers, to slide in and wrap himself around the lean body, to sink his cock into heaven. 

A hungry gleam met his own when he looked back up. "Come on, Walter. This bed's too big for just one person." 

Taking a deep, controlling breath, he shook his head. "It's three in the morning. I'm going to take a shower and then I'll join you, but get those dirty ideas right out of your head. I told you before we're going to wait until you're better." 

"Listen, you don't have to be so fucking cautious. I can take whatever you want to give." The sudden challenge rattled with frustration, the voice harsh and almost bitter. 

"This isn't up for debate, Mulder." 

"You don't have to protect me. I know what I want." 

"And you'll get it, but not when I have to worry about breaking open your damn stitches. Now, stop being such a bitch and behave." 

The words slapped the air and Mulder's face drained of its earlier flush, the bruises uneven and painful to see. His voice strained and struggled to work. "Shit." Sitting up slowly while still holding his side, he swung his legs off the mattress and his feet to the floor. His head down, he squeezed his eyes shut as he braced himself against the edge of the bed. "I need to go home." 

"Don't be crazy." 

"I must be if I thought this thing could work. I don't know what the hell I was thinking. This was a mistake." 

Chilled by the strength of conviction in the tone, he set the report on the table and moved closer. "What's going on, Mulder? One minute you want me in bed and then all of a sudden you're bolting?" 

"I'm not a bitch and I won't be treated like one. Don't ever call me that again." 

Stunned, Walter started to speak, but stopped abruptly as the memory of his own words bit his tongue. "Damn. I'm sorry." 

"I hate that word and the attitude behind it." 

Angry at his own impatience, he sat down, the mattress sagging as Mulder looked away. "I didn't mean it like that, but you're right, I shouldn't have said it." 

"It's just that I hate being called that." His teeth worried his bottom lip, the ragged wound seeping again as he lay back down and rolled on his side, his back to Walter. 

"What aren't you telling me, Mulder?" 

"Nothing. Forget about it." 

"Mulder, seriously, you're overreacting. What's going on? Do you really want to leave?" He put his hand out to touch the shoulder only to have the younger man flinch away. 

"No, but don't keep pushing. Just forget about it." 

A red flag worried his mind, but he delayed it, put it away to be waved and studied later. "Look, we're both tired. Why don't I take a shower and then we can both get some sleep. Maybe I could just hold you for a little while, get used to being together." 

After a few moments stretched to imaginary hours, a whisper answered. "I'd like that." 

"Just give me a minute." 

"Take your time. I'll just check the inside of my eyelids for awhile." Suddenly the voice sounded drowsy, too easy on the air to stay awake too much longer. 

"Sure thing, Mulder. Rest. Look at the pretty pictures." 

"Smart ass." 

"Go to sleep." 

"Yes, sir." The automatic return to sir bothered him a little, but not enough to keep away the desire to kiss all along the bowed backbone, to run his tongue down between the smooth asscheeks just beneath the covers. 

Walter stood up carefully, thinking he needed either a cold shower or a quick jerk off session before he hurt himself, the ache between his legs growing to misery. He walked into the bathroom just as remembered the fresh towels downstairs. Coming back outside, he glanced back to see Mulder's body pumping under the blanket. "Mulder?" 

Movement stopped. "What?" 

"What are you doing?" 

"Nothing." 

"Mulder. If you're doing yourself, stop." 

Pitifully needy eyes stared up at him, the hunger gnawing at his own erect cock still hiding in the folds of the oversized sweats. "Please, Walter, I need to finish. I'm so hard, it hurts. I swear it'll only take a minute and then I can sleep." 

Shaking his head, his devotion to chastity gone, he stepped around and crawled in, moving in behind Mulder. "Walter?" 

Speaking softly, his voice velvet, he blew a verbal kiss into the younger man's ear. "Just relax. Let me do the work." 

"Relax? You've got to be kidding." 

Spooning himself there, large hands slid in past the elastic and quickly removed the pants, pulling them down and off the hook of the leaking cock. It twitched greedily as he captured slippery drops before snaking back around to find the narrow heat between the two rounded muscles. The involuntary shudder and groan urged him on as he spoke quietly, his knees nudging Mulder's thighs forward. "I'm going to make this faster than I will later when you're well, but it's better than your hand." 

A mumbled yes growled to another one as Mulder shoved his ass back harder against Skinner body and toward his busy fingers. 

"You're mine now, Fox. No more solo missions unless I get to watch. Understand? " 

A slight hesitation came with the words, "I don't like being called Fox." 

"I like the name Fox. You're going to let me use it when we're alone." He kissed and sucked along the neck, the light hair against his tongue feathery and salty, each lick bringing on another tremble. He nibbled the earlobe, the soft skin folds recorded, each nip another shake. "You're my Fox. No one else's." He ran his hand down to find the tight pucker, his fingertips teasing, rubbing, not probing inside while he spoke. "Are you mine, Fox? Tell me." 

"Yes. Shit." The long body flexed back harder, his muscles tightening with each of Walter's touches, the pucker invaded by first one and then two thick fingers. "Oh, god." Mulder's whole body shuddered, a chorus of moans growing shorter, tiny pants grabbing the faint air in the bedroom. 

The older man's other hand snaked around, the grip surrounding pure silky heat, the nearly hairless balls perfect companions to the wide shaft. Using a combination of ball rolling and stroking in front, he humped and rubbed his own still covered erection against Mulder's eager finger-fucked ass. The hissing whimpers vibrated through to the younger man's back, the tiny catches growing louder and tightening his own belly. Winding coils grabbed his groin, his thighs sweating and heavy. Friction blazed as his cock pumped in time with the rhythm of his hands, his hips moving forward as Mulder's shoved back. 

Air vapor steamed lungs grown greedy for breathing as all his muscles tightened shorter, near breaking, the growing wave charging up his spine. In his arms, Mulder suddenly stiffened, ached back, the convulsive jerks timed with the clench of his ass. Rubbing harder, only moments from his own need, Walter focused on the energy sizzling his gut, the brightness rising behind his eyes to flash fire. His own release blasting through him, he exploded, the pounding throbbed both in his cock and temples. One final push snapped his spine to delicious pain, the hurt a pleasure. His whole body shook when he rested, the slow wheeze of consciousness a stranger. 

After several moments, he withdrew his hand from Mulder and lay back against the pillow, wrapping his other arm around the chest, and drawing the younger man to him. "You okay?" 

"God, yes." 

Smiling to himself, Skinner kissed the top of the brown hair. "Think you can sleep now?" 

"For ages." 

"Good. I'll get something to clean us up and then we'll try that." 

"Can't we just stay like this?" 

"Well, if you like the idea of sleeping in a wet spot and waking up glued to the sheets, sure, but I'd rather just get a cloth. Besides, it'll only take a minute." 

He got up quickly, went into the bathroom, changed his sweats, and washed up. After getting a warm cloth, he returned to find Mulder propped up against the headboard, his eyes closed, his arm across his midsection. The paleness of his skin contrasted with the dark whiskers and the purpling of his bruises. "Don't go to sleep yet." 

"Too late." His tongue barely lifted the words past drowsy lips. 

Gently, Walter sat down on the edge of the bed. As he lifted the cover, he saw the red. "Shit. You're bleeding." 

"I know, but it's just a little bit." Mulder finally opened his eyes and shrugged. "I don't care. It was worth every stitch." 

His throat dry, his conscience screaming at him, Walter tried to speak without letting his words escape too far from his traitorous tongue. "I need to check." 

"Already did. It's just a small patch. It's only seeping a little, so we can take care of it in the morning." Lifting his hand, he added. "Here, let me do that." 

He handed him the cloth and stood up, his guilt a fine edge slicing at his own tongue. "I can't believe I did that." 

"Walter." 

"What?" 

"Shut up and get in bed. I'm tired and if you try to apologize for what you just did, I'll have to shoot you. Of course, I'll have to borrow your gun to do it, but I will if I have to. You know how I am." 

"Don't start." 

"I'm not. Now, hurry up and get in here before I pass out." 

Too weary to argue, Walter took away the used cloth and for the first time, actually did what Mulder said. As soon as he crawled into bed, the younger man snuggled up into his arms and whispered, "Thank you." 

"You're welcome and same here." 

Petting the dark hair, possessive beyond reason, he listened as breaths slowed and lengthened. The even rhythm tamed the worry and soothed the wild fears wailing inside him, the weight of the body pressed between his legs and against his chest a focal point to all purpose and meaning. Doubt lifted its weighty finger and with absolute clarity, he knew the truth of his desire, his need, and his love for Fox Mulder. 

* * *

The End 


End file.
